


Five Times Pooled

by AtypicalOwl



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, Gen, Podfic Available, with a slight possibility of OOC for the sake of humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 02:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1965486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtypicalOwl/pseuds/AtypicalOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stacker Pentecost's office has two rather large pools of water in it. No one can say for sure why they are there, but one thing's certain: people sure do fall into them a lot.</p><p>Five times someone fell in the office pools and one time someone jumped in on purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Pooled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [decadent_mousse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/decadent_mousse/gifts).



> For Mousse, because I wanted to give you the gift of fluff.
> 
> Inspired by [this Tumblr post.](http://sunrisenebula.tumblr.com/post/86540971519/guys-ive-been-thinking-about-stackers-office)
> 
> [There is a podfic version of this story, read by themerrygentleman!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2961008)

Stacker Pentecost was too stoic to ever complain aloud about it, but he absolutely hated the pools of water in his office. When he took over the Hong Kong Shatterdome and walked into his new office for the first time, he immediately turned around and walked back out, convinced he had the wrong room. What sane architect would design a room where so much of the usable space was taken up by two pools of stagnant water with nothing but a narrow walkway between them? It was much more suited to a comic book super-villain’s lair than any respectable Marshal’s office.

Every person he asked had a different answer about why they existed. “Oh, it’s natural air conditioning. Keeps you cool in the summer.” “It prevents heat discharge from the hangar below from affecting your office.” “It was the popular aesthetic in 2015.” “It’s a leftover from when this was a generator station.” “Why the heck are you asking me, I don’t know.”

And ugh, the smell. Whomever had used the office before had _not_ kept them very clean. He was sorely tempted to just have them drained and filled in, but the people around him insisted they were a Hong Kong Shatterdome tradition/landmark and wouldn’t let him do it. They were good luck and part of the feng shui, and if they were removed he would apparently be cursed with bad luck.

Pentecost would rather have taken the bad luck than the pools. He was not thrilled to have to deal with cleaning out algae, installing pumps and learning about chlorine and shock at the same time he was getting the last vestiges of the Jaeger program set up.

When finally, the pumps were running, the smell was gone, the pools were clean, and the Jaegers were starting to get settled in, a thought crossed Pentecost’s mind: “How long is it going to be before some idiot falls into one of them?”

 

***

 

So Pentecost hadn’t been as fastidious about cleaning the pool as he usually was. Big deal, right? Bad weeks happen, even to Shatterdome Marshals. There was no way he could have predicted the power failures. There was no way he could have dealt with the supply mixups any faster. And after he finished with those issues, there was no way he could have been 100% on top of everything else.

So he had been a bit sloppy with the vacuum, and left a puddle of water that he was too distracted and tired to mop up. It had been a long week, no one in the Shatterdome had gotten enough sleep, and honestly, he just couldn’t be bothered to do more than the bare minimum necessary to keep his office from smelling like a fishtank (if you asked him why he didn’t just keep fish in the pools in the first place, you would be met with a glare and a reminder that there is some work you should be doing, somewhere that is not his office).

There was no way he could have predicted that Tendo Choi would enter his office at top speed to deliver some piece of news, only to skid in the puddle of water, lose his balance, and tumble into the right-hand pool, coffee and all.

While Tendo was engaged in much sputtering and wiping of eyes and face, Pentecost allowed his forehead to briefly drop to his desk. When he looked up again, it took all of his effort to not bark out a laugh at the soggy technician sitting in coffee-clouded water, staring sadly at his empty coffee mug and drenched paperwork, bow tie drooping from the moisture.

“So, Mr. Choi,” Pentecost said, proud of how level his voice was. “What is so important that you had to disregard your own safety to inform me of it?”

Tendo spat out a mouthful of water and said “They just got the supply chain operating again. We’re in the green.” He stood up and halfheartedly shook some water off his sleeves and the paperwork.

“Good to hear.”

Tendo shifted the coffee cup to the hand holding the paperwork and attempted to wring out his bow tie. “Um, I’m just gonna go.”

Pentecost nodded. “One more thing, Mr. Choi.”

“Yeah?”

“Would you please add a ‘Caution: Wet Floor’ sign and a mop to the requisitions list?”

Tendo stared at Pentecost, probably unable to tell if he was joking or not, but eventually nodded, stepped out of the pool, and exited the office, leaving a trail of water in his wake. The sound of squelching shoes faded into the distance.

Pentecost allowed himself a brief chuckle and shake of the head before he got up to find a towel.

 

***

 

“Gentlemen, please tell me you are _kidding._ ”

Whatever Newt and Hermann had been in the middle of yelling at each other was cut short by the click of their jaws snapping shut. The sheer venom in Pentecost’s voice was enough to stop their argument mid-sentence.

Pentecost didn’t give them the luxury of regrouping. “Please tell me you did not come into my office, interrupt my work, and give me a headache because _you are fighting over whose side of the lab is larger.”_

Newt’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and Hermann began to turn a delicate shade of pink. They both spoke at the same time.

“Well, you see, we were—”

“If he would just—”

“Enough!” Pentecost said sharply. “We have a war to fight!”

“But I don’t have enough room for my samples!” Newt protested. “How am I supposed to figure out what makes the kaiju tick if I don’t even have enough room to properly lay out a spleen?”

“If you do not have enough space that is your own fault, as I seem to recall _you_ were the one who painted the dividing line in the first place!” Hermann sniped back.

“Only because you botched it so thoroughly last time! I could barely _twitch_ in the Sydney lab without hitting one of your blackboards!”

“GENTLEMEN!” Pentecost bellowed. “I do not have the time to watch you bicker like children instead of the respected adults you are supposed to be!”

“He started it.” Newt said, pointing at Hermann.

Hermann grunted and poked Newt in the side with his cane. Unfortunately, Newt happened to be shifting his weight from foot to foot at that exact moment, and the poke sent him off balance and toppling over.

Right into the pool, of course.

Hermann and Pentecost both flinched at the gigantic splash that ensued.

All was silent for a moment.

Pentecost raised an eyebrow. “Gentlemen. If you’re done acting like children, please settle this like adults. Switch sides of the lab if you have to, but I trust you won’t make me come down there and settle it for you. Are we clear?”

“Yes sir,” the scientists said in unison, Hermann snapping off a salute and Newt rolling his eyes at Hermann.

“Good. Now get the hell out of my office and try not to drip too much in the elevator.”

 

***

 

Whatever Dr. Gottlieb was saying about the Breach calculations and some sort of quantum interaction with the Jaeger code was doubtless very important, useful in the kaiju war, and possibly quite revolutionary to the field of science.

Unfortunately, Pentecost couldn’t understand a word he was saying. Not because the jargon went over his head — he had picked up enough knowledge secondhand that he could usually follow what both of the K-scientists were saying — but because Hermann was speaking entirely in German.

It wasn’t difficult to imagine why. There were deep dark circles under his eyes, his movements were slow and his German slightly slurred. He was leaning heavily on his cane, his heavily wrinkled clothes doing little to disguise the weariness of the body they covered. The man was obviously exhausted to the point of forgetting which language he should be speaking in.

Hermann paused for breath, and Pentecost held up a hand.

“Doctor Gottlieb, I am impressed by your work and appreciate your dedication to the PPDC, but when was the last time you slept?”

“Eeeeh.” Hermann squinted at him, trying to parse his words. “ _Drei Tage_?” He shook his head to clear the cobwebs a bit. “Three days? Maybe four? I don’t know.”

“We cannot stop the kaiju at the cost of our best and brightest. Go get some sleep, Doctor, and tell me all about this development tomorrow.”

“ _Ja.”_ Hermann saluted, very sloppily, then lifted his cane and turned to go.

Pentecost saw what was about to happen and started to shout a warning, but before he could, Hermann placed his cane not on solid ground, but over the edge of the pool. The tip of the cane went down into the recess, the sudden movement startled him, and Hermann overbalanced and toppled into the water.

Pentecost winced at the splash and hurried over to Hermann. “Are you okay?”

Hermann sat in the water, blinking rapidly. “I’m awake. Yes, I’m awake.”

“Your leg?”

Hermann stared at it briefly then flexed his knee. “It’s fine.”

Pentecost offered a hand to him and helped pull him out of the pool. “I think that made a far more convincing argument than I ever could about the value of getting some rest.”

“Indeed, sir.” Hermann turned to leave, but Pentecost stopped him.

“One moment.” Pentecost went to where he kept his spare shirts and pulled out a large, fluffy towel, then offered it to Hermann.

Hermann took it, a confused expression on his face. “Does this happen often?”

“Just go take a nap, Doctor Gottlieb.”

Hermann left, absently towelling his hair dry and keeping a better eye on where he placed the tip of his cane.

Pentecost sighed and went to find the mop.

 

***

 

Honestly, considering what an ass he was, Pentecost considered it karma that Chuck got himself tangled in Max’s leash and tumbled into the water.

The look on his face was priceless, even if his office _did_ smell like wet dog for days afterwards.

Herc came in, smelled the wet dog smell, and asked what happened. After Pentecost told him, he laughed so hard that he ended up falling into the water himself.

Pentecost finally allowed himself to laugh about the damned pools too.

 

***

 

It didn’t take very much time before Pentecost realized something about Raleigh Beckett: The kid didn’t look down. Not on the roof of the Shatterdome, not even on the scaffolding around the Jaegers (unless someone purposefully directed his attention towards the mechs' feet). Certainly, some of his habit could be attributed to the years he spent on top of the wall, balanced precariously on thin steel beams, welding tomorrow’s footholds into place. In a job like that, one learned to deal with the height however one could.

However, even when he was just walking around, he kept his chin up and eyes forward. Some might mistake it for cockiness, but Pentecost could see otherwise. It was a sign of the quiet strength Raleigh possessed. He didn’t bow his head after his brother died, even though he gained some humility. He didn’t duck his face to avoid stares or glares. He never lost awareness of his surroundings, letting the people around him fade into background noise like some were wont to do.

It was admirable, his strength of character. Unfortunately, Pentecost also knew that it made a certain event inevitable.

He wasn’t the only one to notice, either. The day after Raleigh arrived, Herc sidled up to Pentecost and said “Twenty bucks says he walks into your pools by the end of the week.”

Pentecost gave his friend a sidelong glance, weighing the professionalism of making such a ridiculous bet against his newest Ranger. “Two weeks.”

 

Four days later, a dripping wet and very confused Raleigh accepted a towel from an oddly resigned Pentecost. Just before he left the office, he could have sworn he heard the Marshal mutter something about “damned Herc” and “I don't even have twenty bucks on me”.

 

***

 

The heat of the Hong Kong summer wasn’t something Pentecost and Mako were coping with very well. With most of the Shatterdome’s power being split between the labs and the Jaegers’ maintenance and construction, air conditioning was a commodity.

Pentecost did his best to bear the heat stoically, going so far as to use a waterproof upholstery spray on the inside of some of his shirts so no one would see him sweat. Mako, on the other hand, was suffering in the oppressive heat, red face framed by sweaty hair and on the verge of panting no matter how many bottles of cold water she drank.

Pentecost was a strong man. He had piloted a Jaeger solo, single-handedly taken the responsibility of the kaiju war on his shoulders after the idiot Coastal Wall project started, and even convinced Doctors Gottlieb and Geiszler to work together with a minimum of bickering. Despite all that, he couldn’t bear to see his girl so miserable, so he gently suggested a way she could keep from overheating.

When Mako happily jumped into the water, clothes and all, the look of joy and relief on his face made Pentecost immensely grateful to whatever architect had put the wonderful pools in his office.

 

***

 

**OMAKE:**

 

Pentecost said that he carried nothing into the Drift, but there was one memory that stood out during his drift with Chuck; one RABIT that he very nearly chased.

After a soaked Newt and bemused Hermann left his office to continue their debate over the size of their shared lab space, Pentecost got up to go to the bathroom and slipped in a puddle of water that Newt had left behind. One disorienting fall and cold splash later, he found himself sitting in the middle of one of the pools, soaked to the bone.

For the first and only time, he was grateful that his nosebleeds led him to keep a spare change of clothes in his office.

If Chuck saw that memory during the Drift, he wisely said nothing, and they both carried the secret to their graves.

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Five Times Pooled](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2961008) by [themerrygentleman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themerrygentleman/pseuds/themerrygentleman)




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